Stages
by Simplysheree
Summary: Lessa Shepards early life with her bestfriend Shannon in five stages. Part of the series that starts with Lean on me. M for language and implications later.
1. Denial

**For followers of 'Lean on me'; this fic concerns Lessa Shepards past friendship with Shannon.****  
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The first time she saw the boy with the funny eyes, he lied to her.

He was older than her, bigger than her, so she asked him what she hadn't wanted to as everyone else about,

"Why's the sky sometimes blue but sometimes grey?" She had clasped her chubby hands in front of her and stretched up onto her tip toes, as if it would bring her closer to his answer,

"Because we live inside a huge snowglobe," He gave her a funny look and scratched his head, "and when the giant moves the globe about his house we see different backgrounds."

"That's not true!" She pouted and rolled her eyes as he left with a weird lopsided grin.

Four years later she saw him again, on her ninth birthday, and he'd grown into his face; he looked more in proportion and he moved with a kind of grace that made her envious, _if I could move like that, _she thought, _No-one would ever catch me._ She told her parents about him when she went home; her mother smiled and nodded despite the pain she was in. Her father was dubious but when, a few weeks later, she came home with Shannon in tow he smiled and shook the boys hand with a gentle nod. Yes, he seemed to approve of the boys quiet voice and impeccable table manners. Her mother seemed suspicious that a boy a few years older than her should be so small, so quiet and gentle in the face of colony life. She thought he was frightened of something and, in truth, she was right. That story came later though.

He was there at her mothers funeral; holding her hand tight in his warm, coarse one. By this time they were thirteen and sixteen, respectively, and while she studied hard in school he worked his fathers farm day in, day out. He didn't climb trees anymore and his eyes were hard, narrow; he'd been asked to leave the school after he fought a teacher and won. She wanted to tell him to get away, to go climb a wall or tree, to put his feet in a river somewhere... but her tongue wouldn't accept her brains thoughts. Her childish mouth wouldn't form the words.

Four weeks later the Batarians hit and she found herself holding his head against her shoulder under the floorboards of her house, her father inches away, while people screamed in the distance. He could fight, yes, but fear was alien to him and so he clung to her like ivy to a tree. Just the way he did in every term of fear for the rest of his life.

She stood with him at his parents unofficial funeral, after the alliance memorial, nearly two years later and this time she held his hand. She squeezed his dry, rough hand until her own hurt, as if it would somehow help. It must have because, at the end of the ceremony, he turned his strange eyes to her and smiled,

"Thank you." He said it as if it meant everything and nothing and then he hugged her. Her father took him in and they continued as if nothing had happened.

As if it had always been this way.


	2. Anger

They were good at trading; she gave him admiration, ears to pour his troubles into and a heart to shelter in; in return he lent her his strength, his patience and a shoulder to curl under when the nightmares came back.

Her father made him go back to school, when they reached their new home; Shannon cursed and spat at the prospect but gave in eventually. The shame of illiteracy plagued him and knocked his confidence from its fragile feet again and again. So she taught him to read and he, in turn, taught her to fight. Not the trade her father would have wanted but it served them both well and, under all the hard packed anxiety, they found that Shannon had a brain.

A damn good one, in fact; he excelled in engineering, technical design and, when it came to the practical implementation of his design, he really shone. He always shone to her; her father told others that Shannon was his son but her sun. It was true; she followed him like a pup, forever demanding his time, his care, his attention and, bless his heart, he always gave it.

And then they got older and she, for her turn, became more independent; she noticed other boys and sought their attention and care. That was when he changed; he became frustrated, sullen and withdrawn. Not that she connected the two though her father knew from the first outburst of anger.

"You're going out with Collum again?" Shannon had grunted, eyeing her tight shirt with a frown,

"Well it's my eighteenth birthday and my _best friend_ wont come drinking with me so... yes!" She teased him, "I am, though if you want to come out with us you're welcome!" Her joke set a spark in the gunpowder keg that his temperament had become and he left in a flurry of curses but not before telling her what he thought of her choice in men.

She confronted him, of course; he'd put too much steel in her spine for her to wilt away in the face of his wrath.

The man with the strange eyes had simply stared while she let loose a barrage of verbal artillary; one blue, one brown, both narrow and guarded. Somehow she had hurt him; she knew this but at eighteen she had never waded into deep water where some emotions were concerned. Even if someone had defined their relationship as symbiotic, even if she'd known what that mean; she couldn't have understood. But he was a three years and a lifetime older than her; hard work, hard words, hard language and a hard orphaning had contrasted too strongly with the easiness of their friendship. He'd long since decided that she was something he would pay through the nose to keep; the idea that love could be shared, split infinitely and never diminish was not one he was familiar with.

He asked what he had done wrong; why was she replacing him? He did not ask her to stop, or beg her to reconsider; he just asked why.

"Did I disappoint you?" His thick brows drew together as he struggled to find understanding,

"Just because I like other guys doesn't mean I don't love you." She tried, eventually, "They're not replacing you, they're joining you!" She had wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, "You'll always be my favourite."

They'd always been good at trading; she gave him words and he gave her claws. She gave him the love he'd always wanted and he gave her the spine she'd always needed.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and he gave her her first kiss.


End file.
